


The Wendigo and the Fisherman

by doctornerdington



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adaptation, Character Death, M/M, Magic Realism, based on literature, based on victorian literature, fairy tale, frank stockton, sort of, the griffin and the minor canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctornerdington/pseuds/doctornerdington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wendigo comes to Wolf Trap searching for his reflection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wendigo and the Fisherman

**Author's Note:**

> This story is adapted from a very strange short story by Frank Stockton called “The Griffin and the Minor Canon” (1885) that redscudery introduced me to. All credit to Stockton.

Over the great door of an old, old barn which stood in the quiet town of Wolf Trap there was carved in wood the figure of a large wendigo. The old-time carver had done his work with great care, but the image he had made was not a pleasant one to look at. It had a bony, emaciated body and a menacing visage with savage teeth; although human of form it had inhuman, all-seeing eyes that had, over the years, weathered black as pitch, black as night. Two great horns protruded from its skull: razor-sharp they looked, and twisted in unnatural patterns. Its body was poised as if to fly off of its wooden mounts, and no matter how many times they saw it, the citizens of Wolf Trap never passed it without a shudder of fear. 

A long, long distance from the town, in the midst of dreadful wilds scarcely known to man, there dwelt the Wendigo whose image had been put up over the barn door. In some way or other, the carver had seen him and afterward, to the best of his memory, had copied his figure in wood.

The Wendigo had never known this, until, a hundred years afterward, he heard from a bird, from a wild animal, or in some manner which it is not now easy to find out, that there was a likeness of him on the old barn in the distant town.

Now, this Wendigo had no idea how he looked. He had never seen a mirror, and the streams where he lived were so turbulent and violent that a quiet piece of water, which would reflect the image of anything looking into it, could not be found. Being, as far as could be ascertained, the very last of his race and entirely alone in the world, he had never seen another wendigo. Therefore it was that, when he heard of this wood image of himself, he became very anxious to know what he looked like, and at last he determined to go to the old barn, and see for himself what manner of being he was.

So he started off from the dreadful wilds, and flew on feet of wind until he came to the countries inhabited by men, where his appearance created great consternation; but he alighted nowhere, keeping up a steady pace until he reached the woods surrounding Wolf Trap which had his image on its barn. Here, late in the afternoon, he lighted in a clearing by the side of a brook, and stretched himself on the grass to rest. He was tired, for he had not made such a journey in a century, or more.

With him came darkness, and the news of his coming spread quickly over the town. The people, frightened nearly out of their wits by the arrival of so strange a visitor, fled into their houses, and shut themselves up. The Wendigo called loudly for someone to come to him but the more he called, the more afraid the people were to show themselves. At length he saw two laborers hurrying to their homes through the fields, and in a terrible voice he commanded them to stop. Not daring to disobey, the men stood, trembling.

"Is there not a man in your town who is brave enough to speak to me?" cried the Wendigo.

"I think," said one of the laborers, his voice shaking so that his words could hardly be understood, "that-perhaps--the fisherman--would come."

"Go, call him, then" said the Wendigo; "I want to see him."

The fisherman, who owned the old barn and the carving of the wendigo, had just returned from a week-long trip to a nearby river, and was coming out of a side door with a basket of trout to sell at market. He was a young man of a quiet disposition, anxious to do good to the people of the town, but unwilling to show much of himself in return. The townspeople relied upon him for his assistance with the poor and sick; he was steadfast in his care for those in the most wretched of conditions, seeing in them something of himself reflected back.

The fisherman had not heard of the strange event, which was known to the whole town except himself and when he was informed of it, and was told that the Wendigo had asked to see him, he was greatly amazed and frightened.

"Me!" he exclaimed. "He has never heard of me! What should he want with me?"

"Oh! you must go instantly!" cried the two men. "He is very angry now because he has been kept waiting so long; and nobody knows what may happen if you don't hurry to him."

The poor fisherman would rather have been run through with a knife than go out to meet an angry Wendigo but he felt that it was his duty to go for it would be a woeful thing if injury should come to the people of the town because he was not brave enough to obey the summons. So, pale and frightened and trembling, he started off.

'Well," said the Wendigo, as soon as the fisherman came near, "I am glad to see that there is someone who has the courage to come to me."

The fisherman did not feel very brave, but he bowed his head.

'Is this the town," said the Wendigo, "where there is a barn with a likeness of myself over one of the doors?"

The fisherman looked at the frightful creature before him and saw that it was, without doubt, exactly like the wood carving over his barn door. "Yes," he said, "you are right."

"Well, then," said the Wendigo, "will you take me to it? I wish very much to see it."

The fisherman instantly thought that if the Wendigo entered the town without the people's knowing what he came for, some of them would probably be frightened to death, and so he sought to gain time to prepare their minds.

'It is growing dark, now," he said, very much afraid, as he spoke, that his words might enrage the Wendigo, "too dark to clearly see the carving. It will be better to wait until morning, if you wish to get a good view of the wood image of yourself."

"That will suit me very well," said the Wendigo. "I see you are a man of good sense. I am tired, and I will sleep here on this soft grass, and I will cool myself in the little stream that runs near me. So you may go; but be sure and come early tomorrow morning, and show me the way to the barn."

The fisherman was strangely reluctant to take his leave. The sight of the Wendigo resting on the grass was somehow both horrible and beautiful to him. 

He went into the town. In front of his barn he found a great many people assembled to hear his report of his appointment with the Wendigo. When they found that he had not come to spread destruction, but simply to see his wooden likeness on the barn, they showed neither relief nor gratification, but began to upbraid the fisherman for consenting to conduct the creature into the town.

'What could I do?" cried the man. "If I should not bring him he would come himself, and, perhaps, end by destroying us all."

Still the people were not satisfied, and a great many plans were proposed to prevent the Wendigo from coming into the town. Some elderly persons urged that the young men should go out and kill him; but the young men scoffed at such a ridiculous idea.

Then someone said that it would be a good thing to destroy the wood carving, so that the Wendigo would have no excuse for entering the town; and this plan was received with such favor that many of the people ran for chisels and crowbars, with which to tear down and break up the carving. But the fisherman resisted this plan with all the strength of his mind and body. He assured the people that this action would enrage the Wendigo beyond measure, for it would be impossible to conceal from him that his image had been destroyed during the night. But the people were so determined to break up the carving that the fisherman saw that there was nothing for him to do but to stay there and protect it. All night he walked up and down in front of the barn, keeping away the men who brought ladders, by which they might mount to the great carving, and knock it to pieces with their hammers and crowbars. After many hours the people were obliged to give up their attempts, and went home to sleep; but the fisherman remained at his post till early morning, and then he hurried away to the field where he had left the Wendigo.

The monster had just awakened, and rising to his feet and shaking himself he said that he was ready to go into the town. The fisherman, therefore, walked back, the Wendigo at his side. Not a person was to be seen in the streets, and they went directly to the front of the barn, where the fisherman pointed out the wood Wendigo.

The real Wendigo settled down before the barn and gazed earnestly at his carved likeness. For a long time he looked at it. First he put his head on one side, and then he put it on the other; then he shut his right eye and gazed with his left, after which he shut his left eye and gazed with his right. Then he moved a little to one side and looked at the image, then he moved the other way. After a while he said to the fisherman, who had been standing by all this time:

"It is, it must be, an excellent likeness! That breadth between the eyes, that expansive forehead, that jaw! I feel that it must resemble me. And yet --. And yet…"

The Wendigo sat looking at his image all the morning and all the afternoon. The fisherman, in turn, sat looking at the Wendigo, observing in him a look both quizzical and dissatisfied, and many deep sighs. He had been unwilling to go away and leave him, but by evening the poor man was very tired, and felt that he must eat and sleep. He frankly said this to the Wendigo, and asked him if he would not like something to eat. He said this because he felt obliged in politeness to do so, but as soon as he had spoken the words, he was seized with dread lest the monster should demand half a dozen babies, or some tempting repast of that kind.

"Oh, no," said the Wendigo; “I never eat between the equinoxes. At the vernal and at the autumnal equinox I take a good meal, for I am ravenous beyond measure, and that lasts me for half a year. I am extremely regular in my habits, and do not think it healthful to eat at odd times. But if you need food, go and get it, and I will return to the soft grass where I slept last night."

The next day the Wendigo came again to the barn, and remained there until evening, steadfastly regarding the carving over the door. The fisherman came out once or twice to look at him, and the Wendigo seemed very glad to see him.

Townspeople came to the fisherman’s house, and anxiously asked him how long the Wendigo was going to stay.

"I do not know," he answered, "but surely he will soon be satisfied with regarding his wooden likeness, and then he will go away." A strange hollowness opened in his chest as he spoke these words, but he did not recognize it.

The Wendigo did not go away. Morning after morning he came to the barn; but after a time he did not stay there all day. He seemed to have taken a great fancy to the fisherman, and followed him about as he worked, tending to his property, mending his nets, and tying his lures. He would wait for him in the mornings, and when the man came out, the Wendigo would accompany him wherever he went. 

When it was found that the Wendigo showed no sign of going away, all the people who were able to do so left the town. The mayor the higher officers of the town had fled away during the first day of the Wendigo’s visit. In the days that followed, all the citizens who could afford it shut up their houses and traveled to distant parts, and only the working people and the poor were left behind. After some days these ventured to go about and attend to their business, for if they did not work they would starve. They were getting a little used to seeing the Wendigo; and having been told that he did not eat between equinoxes, they did not feel so much afraid of him as before.

Day by day the Wendigo became more and more attached to the fisherman. He kept near him a great part of the time, and often spent the night in front of the little house where the man lived alone. This strange companionship was often burdensome to the fisherman, but, on the other hand, he could not deny that he derived a great deal of benefit and instruction from it. The Wendigo had lived for hundreds of years, and had seen much, and he told the fisherman many wonderful things.

"It is like reading an old book," said the fisherman to himself; "but how many books I would have had to read before I would have found out what the Wendigo has told me about the earth, the air, the water, about minerals, and metals, and growing things, and all the wonders of the world!"

Thus the summer went on, and drew toward its close. And now the people of the town began to be very much troubled again.

"It will not be long," they said, "before the autumnal equinox is here, and then that monster will want to eat. He will be dreadfully hungry, for he has taken so much exercise since his last meal. He will devour our children. Without doubt, he will eat them all. What is to be done?"

To this question no one could give an answer, but all agreed that the Wendigo must not be allowed to remain until the approaching equinox. After talking over the matter a great deal, a crowd of the people went to the fisherman at a time when the Wendigo was not with him.

“It is all your fault," they said, "that that monster is among us. You brought him here, and you ought to see that he goes away. It is only on your account that he stays here at all; for, although he visits his image every day, he is with you the greater part of the time. If you were not here, he would not stay. It is your duty to go away, and then he will follow you, and we shall be free from the dreadful danger which hangs over us."

"Go away!" cried the fisherman, greatly grieved at being spoken to in such a way. "Where shall I go? If I go to some other town, shall I not take this trouble there? Have I a right to do that?"

"No," said the people, "you must not go to any other town. There is no town far enough away. You must go to the dreadful wilds where the Wendigo lives, and then he will follow you and stay there."

They did not say whether or not they expected the fisherman to stay there also, and he did not ask them anything about it. He bowed his head, and went into his house to think. The more he thought, the more clear it became to his mind that it was his duty to go away, and thus free the town from the presence of the Wendigo.

That evening he packed a leathern bag full of bread and dried fish, and a flask of spirits, and early the next morning he set out or his journey to the dreadful wilds. It was a long, weary, and doleful journey, especially after he had gone beyond the habitations of men; but the fisherman kept on bravely, and never faltered.

The way was longer than he had expected, and his provisions soon grew so scanty that he was obliged to eat but a little every day; but he kept up his courage, and pressed on, and, after many days of toilsome travel, he reached the dreadful wilds.

When the Wendigo found that the fisherman had left the town he betrayed no reaction. After a few days had passed he became much annoyed, and asked some of the people where the fisherman had gone. But, although the citizens had been so anxious that the fisherman go to the dreadful wilds, thinking that the Wendigo would immediately follow him, they were now afraid to mention his destination, for the monster seemed angry already, and if he should suspect their trick he would, doubtless, become very much enraged. So everyone said he did not know, and the Wendigo wandered about disconsolate. 

One morning he awoke at the fisherman’s front door – for he had taken to sleeping there – and looked around the property. It had become overgrown and tumble-down, and the Wendigo thought that it was a shame that everything should suffer on account of the young man's absence.

"It does not matter so much about the barn," he said, "for nobody went there; but it is a pity about the nets and the yard. I think I will tend it myself until he returns."

Within a day, never was seen such an orderly, well cared-for yard, nor such neatly knotted nets. 

The Wendigo now thought that he ought to visit the sick and the poor as the fisherman had regularly done before he went away; although he cared nothing for them himself, he thought it possible that the fisherman did care, and so he began to go about the town for this purpose. The effect upon the sick was miraculous. All, except those who were very ill indeed, jumped from their beds when they heard he was coming, and declared themselves quite well. To those who could not get up he gave herbs and roots, which none of them had ever before thought of as medicines, but which the Wendigo had seen used in various parts of the world; and most of them recovered. But, for all that, they afterward said that, no matter what happened to them, they hoped that they should never again have such a doctor coming to their bedsides, feeling their pulses and looking at their tongues.

As for the poor, they seemed to have utterly disappeared. All those who had depended upon charity for their daily bread were now at work in some way or other; many of them offering to do odd jobs for their neighbors just for the sake of their meals--a thing which before had been seldom heard of in the town. The Wendigo could find no one who needed his assistance.

The summer had now passed, and the autumnal equinox was rapidly approaching. The citizens were in a state of great alarm and anxiety. The Wendigo showed no signs of going away, but seemed to have settled himself permanently among them. In a short time the day for his semiannual meal would arrive, and then what would happen? The monster would certainly be very hungry, and would devour all their children.

Now they greatly regretted and lamented that they had sent away the fisherman; he was the only one on whom they could have depended in this trouble, for he could talk freely with the Wendigo, and so find out what could be done. But it would not do to be inactive. Some step must be taken immediately. A meeting of the citizens was called, and two old men were appointed to go and talk to the Wendigo. They were instructed to offer to prepare a splendid dinner for him on equinox day -- one which would entirely satisfy his hunger. They would offer him the fattest mutton, the most tender beef fish, and game of various sorts, and anything of the kind that he might fancy. If none of these suited, they were to mention that there was an orphan asylum in the next town.

"Anything would be better," said the citizens, "than to have our dear children devoured."

The old men went to the Wendigo; but their propositions were not received with favor.

"There was a time," said the monster, "when I would have devoured you all in a single night, for you are pathetic creatures, worth less, even, than the pigs you offer me. But now, I could not think of it for a moment. Now, I have changed. There is only one creature in the whole world for whom I could have an appetite, and that is the fisherman who has gone away. He was brave, and good, and beautiful, and I think I should have relished him." 

"Ah!" said one of the old men very craftily, "in that case I wish we had not sent him to the dreadful wilds!"

"What!" roared the Wendigo. "What do you mean? Explain instantly what you are talking about!"

The old man, terribly frightened, was obliged to tell how the fisherman had been sent away by the people, in the hope that the Wendigo might be induced to follow him.

“I have had a very low opinion of you," the Wendigo said, "ever since I discovered what cowards you are, but I had no idea that you were so ungrateful, selfish, and cruel as I now find you to be. Your fisherman labored day and night for your good, and as soon as you imagine yourselves threatened with a danger, you send him off, caring not whether he returns or perishes, hoping thereby to save yourselves. I had conceived a great liking for that man, and had intended, in a day or two, to go and seek him. But I have changed my mind. I shall go and find him, but I shall not spare this hideous town. Beware of my terrible vengeance!"

As the monster spoke he became furiously angry. He drew up a great wind around him and whipped through the town as a hurricane, knocking down buildings and crushing those poor people inside; lifting men far up in the air and then dashing them down to the ground in piles of gore; tearing out their throats in his rage; flaying the skin from their very bodies. He did not rest until every man, woman, and child in Wolf Trap was dead. 

And they said as they died, “If only we had listened to the fisherman, we should have been saved. Now who can tell what misery we have brought upon ourselves." But their regret did not save them.

The next morning the Wendigo came to the barn, and tearing the carved image from its fastenings over the great door he grasped it with his powerful arms and began his journey back to the dreadful wilds. 

When he reached this desolate region, he set the wood carving upon a ledge of a rock which rose in front of the crystal cave he called his home. There the image occupied a position somewhat similar to that it had had over the barn door, and was reflected again and again in the facets of crystal; and the Wendigo, panting with the exertion of carrying such an enormous load to so great a distance, felt himself to be at home. He lay down upon the ground and regarded it; yet still he was dissatisfied. When he felt somewhat rested he went to look for the fisherman. 

He found the young man, weak and starved, his bony, emaciated body lying under the shadow of a rock. After picking him up and carrying him to his cave, the Wendigo dripped water into his mouth, which had become drawn and savage in its distress, with a menacing aspect. 

"Do you know," said the monster, when the fisherman had revived slightly, "that I have had, and still have, a great liking for you?"

"I am very glad to hear it," the fisherman gasped back.

"I am not at all sure that you would be," said the Wendigo, "if you thoroughly understood the state of the case; but we will not consider that now. If some things were different, other things would be otherwise. I have been so enraged by discovering the manner in which you have been treated that I have acted in ways you may not sanction. But now rest you, and recover."

As he heard these words, a look of trouble came over the man's face.

"You need not give yourself any anxiety," said the Wendigo, "about returning to the town. Now that I have that admirable carving in front of my cave, where I can sit at my leisure and gaze upon its noble features and magnificent proportions, we have no need to see that abode of cowardly and selfish people."

“What has become of them?” the fisherman asked weakly, for he recognized the Wendigo’s nature.

“I have destroyed them,” the Wendigo answered simply, without a trace of either pride or shame. 

The fisherman was quiet for a long time, and then; “Good,” he murmured, and his eyes turned black as pitch, black as night. “Did you eat them?” 

“I did not. They disgust me.” 

“Good,” the fisherman said again. Very softly he said, “No one else shall nourish you.” And as he spoke, two razor-sharp horns erupted from his skull and he fell back into a swoon from which he never did wake. 

The Wendigo was there to count his breaths until they ceased. 

The autumnal equinox came round, and the monster ate nothing. He would not eat the fisherman, and he did not care for anything else. 

He lay down beside the fisherman’s body with his eyes fixed upon the carved wooden wendigo, but then suddenly he turned his head from the carving to the dead man beside him: for it was here at last that he recognized himself truly reflected. Never again did he look away, and gradually he declined, and died.

If you should ever visit Wolf Trap, you would still see the old barn standing; it as abandoned now and uncared for, and the great wooden wendigo that was over the door is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy International Fanworks Day! Thanks so much for reading! <3


End file.
